it’s all about power.

patriarchy in the church, in the world, isn’t just about male-centered leadership in our church system. it’s about who’s got the power because in our human-brains-who-have-to-bent-on-making-it-all-make-sense, it must be clear.

and making it clear means that we have to make it finite.

we think of it like a limited resource.

we think of it as being a certain size.

we think of it like a pie, with only so many pieces to slice up.

we think that when someone gets more power, that means someone else has to get less.

this is why when we think of men and women leading alongside each other, or any other underrepresented group stepping into greater leadership in some way, shape, or form, we default to needing to step aside to make room for others.  we default to leaving the table so that others can sit at it.  we default to silencing our voices so that others can use theirs.

some of that is true–when moving toward greater equality those with power will have to make some shifts to allow others to step into theirs.  but if we’re not careful, we will end up in the same place we were before, where power shifts to a new group of people and the others are silenced and feel resentment and hurt. 

in the kingdom of God, there’s another possibility.

power is not like pie at all. 

instead, it’s more like loaves & fishes.

there’s this wild and beautiful and miraculous thing that can happen when we share it together.  it multiplies.   and multiplies.

on our little wacky refuge team, i have seen this in action.  the more we are all more fully present, alive, engaged in who we are–male, female, in all our strengths in all our weaknesses–the more free we are, the more alive we are, the more the kingdom of God is reflected in community together. it’s been hard over the years because of a misperception of power as pie.  if we live with the idea that there are only so many slices, then someone’s going to go hungry.

it doesn’t have to be that way.    we need to re-think power.  and respect that power diffusion doesn’t limit power but increases it.

the ways of God are not the ways of this world.  that’s much of our problem.  we have limited God.  and we’ve shortchanged each other.  our default to only living under or over another instead of alongside  has jacked with our hope.  we have adopted models of leadership in our churches that don’t require faith or relationship.  we have adopted models of living together in community that are based on fear .  we have adopted a spirit of scarcity instead of abundance.

and our ways have caused us to become controlling.

underneath control is fear.

systems of patriarchy are built on deeply grooved systems of fear and a belief that power is like pie, with only so much to go around.

Jesus came to break down these systems of fear & control & self-protection and liberate us all.

i completely understand that the world needs organizations where power must be limited, defined, and protected. that’s how it goes when there is work to be done and money to be made.

but the church should be different. 

it should not reflect the power structures of the world.  it should not be built on a spirit of fear and control but on a spirit of love and relationship and equality. 

yes, we come with a bunch of different abilities and disabilities, and we are not all the same. it’s easy for us to say “it’s not possible”, that power issues are too complex and we’re in too deep to ever change it.  but i’m one of those nutty people who is crazy enough to believe it’s possible.

i am seeing what can happen when we stop seeing power as pie and start trusting God to multiply what we’ve got and feed us all. when we stop seeing only so many seats at the table and keep adding in leaves. when we create spaces for men & women, black & white, gay & straight, rich & poor, to live alongside each other with equal value. when we empower each other in any way we can, respecting that we can’t expect everyone to be “fully alive” at the same time but what we can do is fan whatever life we can into flame.

yeah, in the world, power is like pie.

but in the kingdom of God, it’s much more like loaves and fishes, where all may eat and no one has to go hungry.

“why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother’s eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye?” luke 6:41

“do to others as you would have them do to you.” luke 6:31

* * * * *

i have been reflecting a lot about these words from Jesus this week in light of our conversation about equality.

i think they are possibly the least-applied-passages-that-could-actually-change-the-church in the Bible.

honestly, it’s a little comical, how much time and energy has been spent picking apart passages about homosexuality, of which there are few, and women in leadership in church, of which they are even fewer.  book after book and blog after blog have been written about those ones, that’s for sure.

i wonder how come we prefer those to Jesus’ powerful words in the sermon on the mount? how we’d much rather talk about who’s right & who’s wrong than live out the beatitudes?  how we’d much rather spend time & energy defending what’s a sin and what’s not a sin than feeding the hungry or loving the lonely?

umm, i’m pretty sure of that answer (and i’m not certain of much):  it’s a helluva lot easier.

laying down stones, worrying about our own logs & treating others how we long to be treated is some seriously heavy lifting.  one of the things i love the most about the 12 steps & recovery is that people are focused on our own stuff, not someone else’s.  one of the most important rules of the process is to stick with our own struggles, our own hopes, our own work and do what we can to stay on our side of the street as best we can.

it’s really quite beautiful.  and freeing.

and really hard to do in human skin that loves to control.

control is a way to protect ourselves, to distract ourselves from the bigger work of looking at our own painful patterns that keep robbing us of life, of love.

but offering ourselves in humility is what Jesus told us we needed to do–to worry about our own logs instead of anyone else’s.  to worry about the inside of our cups not the outside.  to offer mercy instead of sacrifices to satisfy the law.  to love our neighbor instead of judge our neighbor.

my theory is we’d much rather talk theology and ministry theory than be spiritually transformed ourselves.    it’s a great distraction.

spiritual and personal transformation is painful.  loving our neighbor is easier said than done.  loving God & ourselves, sometimes even harder.  reading blogs & defending positions is a piece of cake.  looking at the logs in our own eyes–pride & control & ego & self-protection & a whole-bunch-of-other-character-defects–isn’t nearly as fun as defending a couple of Bible verses to the bitter end.

i also wonder for all who love using the Bible in every conversation, how come not much time is spent on passages that challenge us on greed?  or power and control?  or comfort and pride?   or sacrifical love?  or humility?

those ones aren’t nearly as fun to rattle on about because they are seriously convicting in our own lives, not just the lives of others.

i get the irony here of me being a hypocrite, of pointing the finger, of throwing stones in a blog post but that’s about not doing that.   and i guess in this moment i would say “yep, i often am”; but i’m being convicted, too.

i can’t help but think that the world is crying out for hope while we’re talking about theology.

people are starving while we’re feeding on blog debates.

women & children are being violated while we’re haggling over whether a woman should be called “director” or “pastor.”

refrigerators are empty & electricity is getting turned off for people while we’re giving money to pay for flat screen TV’s.

if we layed down our stones and worried about the sin in our own lives, i have a feeling we’d be having radically different conversations out here.

if we tended to the forest in our own eye and didn’t give the speck in our brother’s another glance, i have a feeling we’d be plenty busy.

i think Jesus told us these important words for a reason.  he knew we’d much rather throw stones & worry about others’ specks than be radically transformed.

the church has so much it can learn from the 12 steps and the incredible wisdom of the beatitudes.  they embody an attitude of humility & mercy & meekness & purity of heart instead of an attitude of pride & judgment & control & division & finger pointing.

they help us lay down our stones.
they help us focus on our own logs.
they help us let go of needing to be in control or be “right.”
they help us be set free.

free to follow Jesus instead of defend Jesus.
free to learn instead of have all the answers.
free to listen instead of talk.
free to love instead of hate.

God, help us lay down our stones & worry about our own big ol’ logs so we–your body here on earth–can be wonderfully transformed.

* * * * *

Years ago, if you looked up the definition of “Christian Good Girl”, I swear my picture would be right next to it. I was so good at being good! I knew how to keep the peace. I knew how to give people what they want. I know how to put my needs last. I knew how to say all the right things at the right time to sound really spiritual. I knew how to be nice.

Although I was not raised in a Christian home, when I turned my life over to Christ and joined his team, I found that all of the people-pleasing, peace-making, good-girl skills I had learned as a child of an alcoholic raised in chaos worked perfectly in the spiritual realm as well.

I earned all kinds of praise in the churches I was in for my good-girl-ness. Kathy’s so nice. Kathy’s such a team player. Kathy’s so easy to get along with.

None of these things were hard for me to do. They were like reflexes, a natural and immediate instinct to assess the situation, and then adjust to keep the peace and maintain whatever status quo needed to be maintained.

Over the years, though, as I started to do some personal healing work and begin to look at the unhealthy patterns in my life, something profound began to shift. I started to tell the truth about my own story. I started to not worry so much about what people thought. I started to advocate for others who couldn’t use their voices yet. I started to disagree. I started to use my voice and stir the pot about change in the church.

I started to worry more about pleasing God than pleasing man.

And guess what happened? Leaders didn’t like it. They liked me a lot better when I was following the rules, playing the good-girl game. A weird and subversive shift occurred when I started showing up more honestly, more passionately as a leader. The best words I can use to describe it are: “painful silence.”

In my situation, the painful silence lead to me losing a pastoral ministry job that I loved. The reality was that I was just not “good” enough, submissive enough, to be part of that system anymore. Honestly, if I could have switched back to the Good-Girl fast enough, I might have been able to save my job. Temporarily.

But I was too far gone. My soul and passion had started to come alive and I couldn’t turn back.

As difficult as that season was for me personally, professionally, and spiritually, I am so grateful for it because I learned the most important lesson of my life as a leader:

Well-behaved women won’t change the church.

We just won’t.

Well-behaved women will keep the wheels spinning on systems that keep working, keep growing, keep moving. We will do good and honorable work that matters and helps people and makes a difference in their communities.

But we won’t change the church.

Some people think the church doesn’t need changing; they’re fine with the way things are because it works for them. But I think there a lot more of us out here than even we ourselves know–passionate women who believe the body of Christ needs much more than a face-lift to become all it’s meant to be.

Yeah, well-behaved women will not change the church.

Instead, change in the church will come from not-so-well-behaved women who are willing to risk their pride, reputations, and “being liked” to stand for what God is stirring up in their hearts.

Change in the church will come when women who are called to lead, lead, even when others don’t think they can or should.

Change in the church will come when women refuse to squelch their gifts and begin to unleash them without asking for permission first.

Change in the church will come when women passionately follow Jesus, not systems-made-in-his-name-that-do-not-reflect-his-image.

Change in the church will come when women bravely use their voices, power, and any influence they have to inspire others to be brave, too.

I admit, it’s still sometimes hard for me to not be the good-girl. I miss the safety. I miss the praise. I miss the security, even if it was false. Some days I wish I could make nice like I used to because it was so much easier then.

But the Kingdom of God was never about easy. It was never about comfort. It was never about maintaining the status-quo. It was never about playing nice.

The Kingdom of God Jesus called us to participate in creating–here, now–isn’t well-behaved.

That’s reason enough for us not to be, either.

i use the word “crazy” all the time when i talk about life down here because compared to the big church machine, it is.

people really do think we are crazy (can’t tell you the number of people who say “i could never do what you guys do” like it’s some kind of weird anomaly in the church of Jesus Christ to actively love one another [that's crazy]).  but the truth is that we’ve sort of adopted that language, too.  that what we’re doing is somehow “crazy”.

i recently had a very short but lovely conversation with two missional church cultivators who are doing what we’d call “crazy” work, too.   in the conversation one of them said, “i used to think we were crazy but then i started re-thinking it.  i began to say, hey, we’re not the crazy ones here. read the gospels, this is so not crazy.  that system is what’s crazy!”

“that system is what’s crazy!”

those words have really lingered and i’ve been thinking about them all week.

what if we reframed crazy when it comes to church?

what if instead of thinking that small-missional-communities-and-people-working-on-the-fringes-of-life-and-faith were crazy, we started thinking that maybe these things were actually crazy instead:

isn’t it a little crazy that in the church supposedly built upon the teachings of Jesus Christ that half of the population is silenced and kept underneath the other half? 

isn’t it a little crazy that millions of people go to church each week and never talk to anyone past saying “hello” to a greeter?

isn’t it a little crazy that the same people who are marginalized on the outside of the church are marginalized on the inside, too?

isn’t it a little crazy that there is usually never a really poor person or a hurting person or a single mom on a board of elders?

isn’t it a little crazy that for the most part the pretty and the popular and the outwardly strong are the only ones we ever see or hear from up front?

isn’t it a little crazy that millions of dollars are spent on buildings & staff salaries while people in the congregations are on food stamps & medicaid?

isn’t it a little crazy how much money & energy & time is spent on dynamic teaching, amazing worship, and an awesome kids program that happens for one hour every week?

isn’t it a little crazy that every church has so many people with amazing gifts & passions & talents that not one person in their congregation even knows about?

isn’t it a little crazy that there are so many people who go to church each week but do not personally know one single poor person ?

isn’t it a little crazy that following Jesus has become about going to church & believing certain things & listening to certain radio stations or voting for certain candidates?

isn’t it a little crazy that pastors have to pay exorbitant amounts of money to seminaries to somehow become “qualified”?  

isn’t it a little crazy that we don’t think this is crazy?

seriously, we need to reframe crazy when it comes to church!

a place where people can share openly about their addictions & struggles & hopes & doubts & fears.  breaking the divide between us & them.  women freely leading alongside men as equals.  all welcome and not only until they’re actually honest. safe places for gifts to be fanned into flame with no power or control trips.  a focus on living out the Bible instead of talking about the Bible.  tangible ways to love & care & serve & learn how to be a friend.  dialogue instead of passive listening.  experiencing instead of watching.

i’m pretty sure when it comes to following Jesus these things aren’t supposed to be “crazy”.  

to the world, yes.  to the church built on his name, um, i don’t think so.

yeah, we so need to reframe crazy when it comes to church.

here’s a little excerpt:

Well-behaved women won’t change the church.

We just won’t.

Well-behaved women will keep the wheels spinning on systems that keep working, keep growing, keep moving. We will do good and honorable work that matters and helps people and makes a difference in our communities.

But we won’t change the church.

Some people think the church doesn’t need changing; they’re fine with the way things are because it works for them. But I think there a lot more of us out here than even we ourselves know–passionate women who believe the body of Christ needs much more than a face-lift to become all it’s meant to be.

i hope you’ll go over there to read the entire post & you can share any thoughts there or here.

you can read the other posts in the series here:

also, thank you, everyone, for all of the honesty & hope & stories from this past week through comments & emails & conversations.  i look forward to next week, too.  if you’re new here or just catching up, the four posts this week centered on rebuilding after deconstructing faith are:

• intro – rebuilding after deconstruction
  
• 1. honoring the process
• 2. acknowledging losses
• 3. discovering what remains

have a great weekend.  much peace & hope, kathy

we already celebrated last night at the refuge (we get resurrection sunday about 12 hours earlier than everyone else because we gather on saturday nights). it was sweet & wild & fun, with one of my favorite songs ever and lovely stories of resurrection.

but these days i know more & more people who struggle with easter. in fact, they dread it. it’s become a sad day. a weird day. a disorienting day. a day where the reality of everything they’ve lost when it comes to faith & church is most evident.

today i wanted to honor the reality that while facebook & twitter & churches are abuzz with “he is risen!” and “hallelujahs!”, there are a lot of people who aren’t feeling it today.

and they’re not the people who are happily telling stories about the easter bunny, not at all concerned about going to church no matter how many times their neighbors invite them on christmas & easter. for those friends, they are free from the religious parts of easter.

rather, these current & sometimes-calling-themselves-former christians have spent countless years & hours & heart & time & energy investing in the churches they were part of. they were true believers, dedicated leaders, faithful followers. they were people who knew the Bible inside and out and loved God and people with their whole heart.  they were the first ones there every easter sunday.

this is a group that are often forgotten on this day–ex-church-folks who long for the connection & community & hope that easter offers but can’t bring themselves to walk into any of them this year. they’re what my friend & compatriot in walking wounded: hope for those hurt by church, phyllis mathis, calls “allergic” to church, far beyond just not liking it.

it would be easy to dismiss them, and say “well, they just need to get over it, it’s just one hour” or “we can’t let them ruin our fun” without acknowledging that it really stinks when the luster of easter erodes and you find yourself out on the fringes of everything that once was familiar.

when the thought of walking into a church makes you feel a little sick.

when all of the words to the songs seem silly.

when you’re not sure what you believe about a lot of things you used to believe and so what’s easter supposed to mean then?

when the predictability of the sermons & the messages & the whole kit-and-kaboodle could potentially cause you to jump out of your seat and start screaming.

when nothing related to “church” feels safe or good right now.

i just wanted to say something out loud about it this easter instead of ignore it.

to remind my friends that even though i don’t know this exact feeling because i have my crazy community that is still a safe spot to celebrate easter, i hurt with you for the loss.

to acknowledge that it’s real and not crazy.

to say out loud that i really wish there were better options to hold a sacred space for this season of the spiritual journey that felt familiar enough.

to honor that it really sucks when the system hijacked so much of the good stuff and holds it hostage.

i am well aware that it’s never a great idea to write about something that i haven’t also experienced myself. but i also don’t want to be one of those people who just keeps walking past, so busy in my own little world that i don’t stop to acknowledge my brothers-and-sisters-who-have-lost-so-much.

most of all, my hope is that if you are hurting & lost this easter, that somehow, some way, some slivers of Hope & Resurrection come peeking through this year and you feel less alone.

peace & love from colorado.

he’ll make all that was wrong right.

but as the week progresses, things radically shifted.  he had stirred the pot too strongly.  he’d upset too many apple carts.  he challenged the status quo far too deeply.

he started doing all kinds of un-king-like things.

he touched lepers.
he dined with sinners.
he called out religiosity on its hypocrisy.
he told everybody they needed to be last, not first.
he said that love trumped all.
that the way up toward God was to go down to the places of real life, real pain.
that God desired mercy, not sacrifice.

and then, next thing they knew he was washing feet, talking about dying, telling us we needed each other in all of this.

wait a second!  this wasn’t the kind of king-like behavior we were hoping for.

things went bad to worse after the foot washing.  he was arrested, tried, and sentenced to die.  and then, instead of getting off the cross and saving the day that way he actually died.

right there in front of them.

he was sacrificed. he appeared powerless, defeated.

all that excitement for nothing.

some king he was!

sure, we know a few days later, the tides turned yet again and he wasn’t dead but alive.  appearing to his friends.  telling them some of the same crazy things he had been telling them before he died.  the spirit of God, alive and well, at work in people’s lives ever since.

but the truth is that it’s always been a confusing story.  one that makes us scratch our heads a little and wonder “why did God choose to do it this way when there were a lot of better, more clear, easier-to-understand, more really-king-like options?”

as i reflect on the beginning of holy week and our journey toward easter, i think so many of the same human dynamics are at play today.  sociology is powerful.  our demands for strong, powerful, charismatic, certain leaders is alive & well.  just look around at big rocking churches.  there aren’t a lot of people leading them who are washing other people’s feet, dining with lepers, and telling mind-boggling, confusing stories that has everyone shaking their head, going “huh?”

rather, what makes most of them strong is their certainty, their power, their charisma, their “king-like” qualities.

my theory is that even though we know Jesus is the real king, we are still desperately looking for one here that makes more sense than Jesus.  pastors, leaders, podcasters, writers, speakers, someone to tell us what to do & think, what’s okay & what’s not okay, what the scripture says & doesn’t say, who’s in & who’s out.

we are drawn to power & charisma, not the beatitudes-infused kind Jesus embodied and preached, but a worldly power that keeps us underneath so we can feel more protected, comfortable, contained. 

we are addicted to inspiration.

but the gospel was never supposed to be protected, comfortable, or contained. or inspiring in a sit-and-listen-and-feel-better-afterward kind of way.

what makes it the gospel is its wildness, rawness, unexpectedness, and challenge to us.  that God shows up in the least likely places instead of the most.  that he pierces the darkness with unexplainable light. that we should follow his weird & wild ways, not men’s self-serving ones.  that in order to be born again (and again) we need to die yet again (and then over again).

when i was in el salvador this past week with my family i had a lot of time to think & write & read; one of the things i thought about a lot is how desperate we are for an earthly king.  i am sometimes, too. i want someone to swoop in and tell me what to do and rescue me from my doubts & questions.  i want someone to put me & God & the whole kit and kaboodle back in a box so my faith can somehow be more manageable.

but then the feeling always subsides & i realize i do have a king.

a humble one, who says that i’m blessed when i realize my spiritual poverty (not when i’ve got it all nailed down).

a gentle one, who whispers to me that he understands my pain & struggle because he was human, too.

a wild & crazy one, who keeps reminding me that his ways will always be counter-cultural & harder but also better.

a not-the-way-kings-usually-look king, who says he’s not here to boss me around and make all my troubles go away, but rather that he’d be present in the midst of them.

a counter-cultural king, who calls me to spiritual poverty, mourning, mercy, meekness, justice and love as the path to freedom.

my hope is that over time we’d learn to quit crowning earthly kings, giving our time and money and souls to them, thinking they will save the day.

rather, i hope we can pick up our crosses and follow the one who really can.

* * * * *

ps: i really love this post by sarah bessey that i think points to what we expect of ourselves, too, when it comes to this king-hero-strength-means-big-and-amazing issue:  in which i have an evangelical hero complex.

* * * * *

“i have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made straight and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed and all flesh shall see it together.” – martin luther king, jr.

feminist is a dirty word in a lot of Christian circles.  it has come to be associated with anger and reverse sexism and all kinds of other things that were never the idea.  i personally don’t mind being called a Christian feminist because it goes with the territory;  i am a passionate advocate for the liberation of women and am grateful for those who have gone before us and will go after us to pave the way for greater equality.  at the same time, i’m not crazy about the word.

like the word “church” and “pastor” and a lot of other loaded words, i think we need to try to reclaim them or at least come up with some better ones that describe what we mean without such negative connotations.  for me, i am not a feminist for the sake of women’s power.

rather, i am for dignity-restoring-in-all-the-places-where-it-has-been-lost.

when people are thought of as less-than, no matter what shape, size, color, gender, or experience, their dignity is stripped.  period.

when 1/2 the population of the world is generally thought as less-than and inferior somehow, we’re in some pretty big trouble.

i don’t feel a strong call to promote the “f” word of “feminism”.

but i do feel a deep & burning passion to promote the “d” word–”dignity”- for all people.

we are all made in the image of God and have inherent worth because of it.  many complementarians will agree, saying that men & women are “equal in value but different in role” but i believe they miss the point and underestimate how powerful the “under another” theology creates a propensity to oppress, silence, limit, and reduce.

it strips us of our dignity.

women are seen as less-than in most cultures.  they were in Jesus’ time, too.

but he, God in the flesh, embodied something radically important–restoration of the dignity of not only women but anyone who was thought of as less-than.

still, the church of Jesus Christ, which should be the free-est, most radically inclusive, least-oppressive, safest space in town has tossed out a lot of what he modeled and went on to perpetuate inequality toward women in the same old ways.  we’ve used a few scripture verses and an already-deeply-grooved-against-women-cultural-system to perpetuate oppression instead of follow Jesus’ example of restoring dignity & setting people free–like really free.

i do not want to see women empowered so that they can then power up on others & create the same kinds of inequality we already have, only in reverse.  that would not be reflective of the kingdom of God, which is what God has called us to participate in creating.

rather, i want to see women set free to step into who they were created to be without man-made limitations that strip their dignity so that the reality of God can be reflected in all God’s children, here & now.  when that original image of God is uncovered, unburied, fanned into flame, all kinds of beautiful things emerge.

men’s dignity will be restored, too.

the systems we have perpetuated haven’t only robbed women of their worth.  they’ve robbed men of theirs, too.  they’ve reduced them to stereotypical roles that they can’t live up to.  they’ve put men in a place of wielding power that they didn’t even necessarily want.  the systems have limited the possibilities of finding equal, strong partners.

dignity restoration is contagious.

over time, the divides that usually separate us can be crossed.

over time, families, neighborhoods, cities, organizations, nations will be changed.

over time, beside each other together as equals, we can more freely reflect the image of God in every relationship and system we are in.

to me, there’s nothing more beautiful than dignity-restored.

yeah, i don’t think we need more Feminists. 

i think we need more Dignity-restorers.

* * * * *

other bloggers writing on this topic:

• Marta Layton – The War on Terror and the War on Women
• Ellen Haroutunian – All About Eve
• Jeremy Myers – Women Must Lead the Church
• Words Half Heard – Rethinking Hupotasso
• Wendy McCaig – Letting Junia Fly:  Releasing the Called
• Jeanette Altes – On Being Female
• Melody Hanson – Call Me Crazy, But I Talk To Jesus Too
• Glenn Hager – Walked Into A Bar
• Steve Hayes – St. Christina of Persi
• Leah Sophia – March Syncroblog-All About Eve
• Michelle Morr Krabill – Why I Love Being a Woman
• Liz Dyer – The Problem Is Not That I See Sexism Everywhere…
• Sonja Andrews – International Women’s Day
• Sonnie Swenston-Forbes – The Women

for all kinds of reasons, though, many church systems are really unhealthy.  often our basic insecurity as christians is a flaw that crops up all over the place in the way we interact with the world.   our blindedness to our own dysfunctions and the fear of counseling & recovery (for ourselves & within the church) makes us even more unsafe.  sprinkle in power and a structure that has thrived with one charismatic leader on top, and it’s a recipe for disaster.

churches hurt people when they:

1. abuse power

2. put programs over people

3. perpetuate inequality 

4. demand certainty

5. expect conformity 

6. dismiss pain 

7. ignore giftedness

8. pull the God/here’s-what-the-Bible says trump card

9. create scapegoats

10. shame, and then shame some more

i’m sure there are many more. these are just a few off the top of my head.  what would you add?

i often wonder what Jesus would think of today’s contemporary church.  what we’ve created seems so similar to what he was railing against during his time on earth.  his call to a life centered on the beatitudes has been hijacked by many systems built on his name, and something far different has been promoted & modeled.  there’s a lot of carnage out here because of it.  beautiful, sincere, dear people who really believed in “church” and ended up on the outs for all kinds of reasons.

some days it just makes me cry.

i have a deep passion for those that we call “the walking wounded”–followers of Jesus hurt by the systems they have given their life, heart, time, passions to in all kinds of ways.  i know if i hadn’t had a safe place to process after my painful church experience a chunk of years ago, i am not sure where my faith would have ended up.  we crawled our way to healing together.

i don’t think the church is aware of how much hurt it has inflicted.  the wheels keep spinning.  self-preservation continues to be top priority.  very little confession & change appears to be happening. and those who are still “in” get mad at the people who are “out” and think they should just get over it, quit being so angry & hurt, and start playing again.

this ignoring of the reality of wounding is even more painful for those already hurt.

almost every day i hear new stories of people who have lost what they most held dear and now don’t know where to turn.  our brothers & sisters are on the side of the road, bleeding, bruised, and with no ability to find safe shelter since the one place they should be able to find comfort & spiritual care is the very place that jacked them up in the first place.

i wish there were safer spaces for healing from church woundedness, other than expensive therapy and blogs and people-left-to-figure-it-out-all-on-their-own.  but the truth is there aren’t a bunch of them.  i think these wounds scare people.  i understand why.  it’s tricky stuff because it’s often the deepest pain–damage to our souls.

but we’re trying to be brave and play our small part in creating one, a safe pocket of love and healing for those who have been hurt by church. 

a place to tell stories & garner strength & find hope.

we hosted a live event in denver in october & just wrapped up our first online class–walking wounded: hope for those hurt by the church.    it was really healing for those who participated, so we decided to offer it again, starting april 9th (registration details here).   online isn’t our first choice; we wish we could all be together in the same room, but this is the next best thing.  it’s our little contribution to the underground railroad.

meanwhile, my deepest desire is to not need a place for wounds to be healed because we’d begin to shift what’s creating the wounding in the first place.

that people who plant new trees would take a good, hard look at these 10 things and do everything possible to not re-create them.

that current systems would repent & change & embody a better way.

that the beatitudes would be infused in our hearts & our practices and we’d find ways to be people who heal & restore instead of jack up & hurt.

it’s so possible, it’s just a lot harder to do.

God, help us participate in healing & change in the church; we’re tired of seeing so many people hurt.

* * * * *

“get ready, God is preparing you for something really, really small” – shane claiborne

i have always tended to do everything big in my life.  i never really set out to have 5 kids, but i am the one who had 12 bridesmaids and over 400 people at our wedding & keeps the post office in business with how many christmas cards we send every year.  it’s just…me (and that my #1 strength on the strengthsfinder is “includer”, ha ha).

but i’m learning something really precious and beautiful in this season–just how powerful “small” really is.

i first earned my chops in big-church world, stepping into leadership a big chunk of years ago and then ramping it up a few years later on the pastoral staff at a mega-church.  the contrast between where i was and where i am now is actually quite comical and once in a while at some our refuge gatherings i find myself chuckling at the difference between the two.  i went from as professional & amazing & full-of-wow-and-tons-of-people as you can get to simple-pared-down-unplugged-and-small.  it’s apples & oranges.

and while i’m not saying that “big is bad” i think i’m more convinced than ever that  “small is plenty.”

here’s why:

transformational, redemptive relationships require a lot of time and energy. learning Jesus’ ways of love is complicated.  most people–no matter how put together they may look on the outside–struggle with feeling loved by God & people & passing on love to God and people.  shifting those deep places in hearts is not something that comes in a snap. it takes a long time to build trust, intimacy & connection.  it takes intention and fighting against the path of least resistance which will always tend toward “i’m too busy” or “i really don’t need people in my life, i’ve got it covered on my own.” after 6 wild years of life in the refuge community, i see up-close-and-personal just how much time and energy it takes to nurture transformation.   the tangled web of life together is impossible to navigate in a sea of hundreds of nameless faces.

real life is unpredictable and hard; the needs are great. $*!&!( happens.  marriages begin to crumble, jobs get lost, people get sick, family members die, relationships break up, kids get in trouble, people get inspired to adopt children from foster care & overseas, depression kicks in, the pain gets great enough to enter recovery.  real life is unpredictable and if i look around most of the relationships i am in–both in and outside of the refuge community–there’s a lot of real life going on that is complicated and messy.   sure, it’s easy to just stand by and watch when there’s no real connection between people, but in a small community dedicated to life together, in different ways we all share in the pain and struggle together. and while it is a beautiful gift, it is also  impossible to share these kinds of burdens on too big of a scale.   when it comes to the needs of real life, small is plenty.

everyone needs a space to use their gifts & passions & voice. this is something i’m most passionate about because the body of Christ is supposed to be a place where each and every person who is a part is contributing in some way, shape or form–bringing their gifts & passions & voice to the community.  in big settings, there’s only so much “room” so the talented & louder voices are the ones who usually get heard.  in our practicing community, we go out of our way to hear from as many different people as possible in as many different ways as possible.  and even then, it’s tricky to do.

growth doesn’t mean numbers. almost all church-planting and success-in-life models are focused on numerics & dollars–butts in seats & bucks in the offering plate or some combination of that.   the growth that i see really has nothing to do with the-number-of-people-who-come-to-our-gatherings but rather seeing people become more loving, caring, compassionate, generous, and kind in little & big ways.  of seeing people find hope when there wasn’t any.  of seeing people really “become more like Christ” even if none of those words were ever used.  yeah, there’s a big difference between building churches & cultivating communities.

never underestimate how much impact “small” can really have.  i feel so blessed to see this in some little ministries, missional communities, and individuals-who-are-dedicated-to-the-poor-and-marginalized-in-all-kinds-of-crazy-innovative-ways.  small pockets of love matter.  justice & mercy & hope ripple out from small acts of kindness & love.  one life can change one other life.  and that one life matters. if we are always thinking we’re not big enough, strong enough, cool enough, sustainable enough, we will miss out on amazing people & opportunities to love & live right in front of us.

learning how to embrace small as plenty means becoming comfortable in our own skin, accepting ourselves how we truly are individually & corporately.

it means bending our ear and heart toward the ways of the kingdom of God–where the ways of the world are turned upside down, the last shall be first and the first shall be last, where learning the ways of love one relationship at a time  supersedes everything else.

more than ever, i am discovering that small is plenty.